


a riot

by inpectore



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Filippo and Giovanni are only mentioned, Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, POV Martino Rametta, after 2x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inpectore/pseuds/inpectore
Summary: Yeah, maybe he really meant to tell Filippo that stuff, maybe he despises those gays and so what? Does it really matter that much?





	a riot

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic and it's not in my native language because fundamentally I am an idiot. Jokes aside, I really want to improve my writing skills and during this hiatus this project was the only thing keeping me sane. So this work isn't perfect, I just hope it's, at least, comprehensible.
> 
> It's almost a transcription of Martino's thoughts after the fight he had with his friends.  
> Warning: this is a hot mess of first-person narration, badly written stream of consciousness and annoying comments of an omniscient narrator.

Yeah, maybe he really meant to tell Filippo that stuff, maybe he despises _those gays_ and so what? Does it really matter that much?

He isn't gay, he had only fallen in love with some random guy who, by the way, already left him, so... never mind.  
He doesn't belong in Filippo's world and he never will, so his opinion on the subject shouldn't matter. Besides, he always dresses the same, hoping his "not exactly eye-catching" choice of clothing will help him blend with the surroundings. Clearly, taking part in pride parades, where everyone walks around semi-naked, isn't exactly his thing. So, while they chant slogans for sexual liberation and freedom of expression, his whole attitude just screams: "Leave me alone, don't bother me".

Just forget it.

So why is he sitting on his bed in the middle of the night searching _"history of pride movements"_ on Google?  
Yes, he likes googling random things when he's bored or insomniac (thank you, Nì); but, to be completely honest, he would rather spend the night reading about this stuff, than continue looking for curious anecdotes about Frida Kahlo's life for Sana's radio program. 

_"The first Pride was a riot"._

Really, a riot? Walking down the streets wearing high heels and women's clothes, that's what you call a _"riot"_?

But the title has instantly caught his interest. So he starts reading. 

Obviously, he didn't know anything about the Stonewall protests, about the systematic police attacks aimed at the LGBT community of that area and he didn't know about those brave transgender women who had the nerve to say: "That's enough!", and had fought back.  
He has a smile on his face when he reads about what Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera had done: I mean, throwing bricks, bottles and shot glasses at brutally violent police officers, who exercised their power over people whose only crime was hanging out at a bar, is pretty sick, he must admit it. 

And just when he thought he had carefully blocked them, Filippo's words resonate in his mind: 

_"Are you that brave Martino? I don't think you are"._

He agrees. 

_"Not yet"._

Of that, he isn't sure. 

Certainly, allowing himself to fall in love with Niccoló and letting himself go were very courageous acts. Just spending some time alone with him, talking about everything and nothing at all at the same time, made him realise that he finally wasn't holding himself back, that with him he could drop his mask and start living freely. 

Throughout his whole life, he lived hiding under a carefully constructed version of himself. This mask had surely kept him safe from stranger's judgments, but it had left him unable and, worse than that, almost _unwilling_ to speak up for himself, let alone for others or for a good cause.  
He had gotten so acquainted with the apathy that he feared he would never be able to be brave again. 

But that was before he met Niccolò. 

Now, the veil has been lifted: Martino was positively sure that all he wanted to do was spending his life on Nì's bed, where he learnt what true, raw and heart-wrenching happiness really was. Damn it, with Niccoló he even allowed himself to speak softly, to giggle and to smile with his whole face, letting his eyes sparkle and the skin around the eyes wrinkle. He always hated how vulnerable and childish it made him look until Nì confessed him that he adored when his face did that, he even named it _"faccia da cerbiatto"_ , fawn face. 

Hence this is why Niccoló leaving him without an explanation completely crushed him: he showed him what life could be, he was breathing for the first time. But now, because of him, he's back to square one. 

_Niccoló Niccoló Niccoló.  
Why did you leave me?_

So yeah, insert Niccoló in the equation and he is capable of being brave. For fuck's sake, he was about to confront him at the party, if Emma hadn't interrupted him!  
But normally he isn't. In fact, ignoring his friends and leaving them wondering why he acted like a jerk for a month isn't something a brave person would do. He feels like shit for hurting them that way, he shouldn't have hit them that night. He'll never forget the face Gio had, lying on the ground: shocked, sad but mostly pitiful.  
He didn't deserve it. 

All of this could have been avoided if he had given them a simple explanation.  
An honest explanation.  
He needed that too.  
And that's where the problem lies, this is the reason why he started piling up months and months of things unsaid, frustrations, and all-around nervousness. 

_Why, why, why can't you say it?_

I am gay. 

I am gay because I'm in love with a boy and I don't feel sexually attracted to girls. I don't bleach my hair and I'll never get a rainbow tattoo like Filippo because I like my red hair and the tattoos I already have; these preferences have nothing to do with the concept of "homosexuality".  
Filippo and I experience life in our unique ways and we have different ideas, but one: we love men. That's all. 

_There, there: don't you feel better?_

He shouts it out his window:  
"Sono gay, cazzo ve ne frega?".  
(I'm gay, why the fuck do you care?)  
A passerby gives him a puzzled look.

Finally, he gets it: he needs to be brave to feel, at least, at peace again; to start living freely everywhere and in every moment, not only on Nì's bed.  
And to be brave doesn't necessarily mean to come out to whoever crosses his path: it means having the courage to reconnect with all the people he pushed away, making them part of his journey.  
And maybe he'll need some more time to get there but that's ok.

_Martino, that's ok._

Now he feels like pure shit.

 _Martino, that's ok._

Now he just wants to sleep for days and days, pretending all was just a bad dream.

_And Martino, that's ok._

So he bookmarks the web page about Stonewall, about Marsha and Sylvia: they deserve to be in Sana's podcast and one day he'll be able to explain to her why. 

_Sleep now.  
One day at a time._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this till the end, I really appreciate it!


End file.
